


people bologna sandwiches at three in the morning

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bedelia Du Maurier is so done, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hannibal Lecter Misses Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter and Bedelia Du Maurier in Florence, Hannibal Lecter is a dramatic little bitch, Hannibal Lecter is in love with Will Graham, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 02:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bedelia and Hannibal have an odd early morning conversation.





	people bologna sandwiches at three in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the gap between Bedelia and Hannibal assuming Lydia and Roman Fell’s identities and Anthony Dimmonds finding out :))
> 
> Inspired by this tumblr post:
> 
> https://sacrificialclam.tumblr.com/post/171588158428/has-hannibal-ever-just-eaten-a-people-bologna

A loud bang echoes from somewhere far off in the palazzo. Bedelia burrows deeper into the feather filled pillows and waits for sleep to overwhelm her again. One of the _only_ upsides to being Doctor Hannibal Lecter’s faux wife is that things that go bump in the night are rarely a cause for concern. Noises at ungodly hours just mean Hannibal is up, crafting centerpieces out of laceleaf flowers and human heads or in the middle of any number of other equally unique murderous shenanigans.

Whatever Hannibal is up too, tonight Bedelia wants no part in it. She rolls over unto her back and stares at the diamond drippings of the chandelier above. The palazzo is quiet once more. But the longer she has laid awake the more aware she has become of the dull throbbing of her head. It is abundantly clear now that that the two glasses of Strega liqueur she downed before bed were mistakes. Mistakes that are now catching up with her. She really needs an aspirin. And perhaps another drink. 

Bedelia slips out of bed rubbing her sore temples as she tiptoes across her room and out into the candlelit hallway. The door to Hannibal’s bedroom is ajar. She peeks inside and finds the bed neatly made. The doctors sketchbook is still open atop his covers, to a replication of Liston Shaw’s Jezebel with Bedelia’s face. _Classy_ Hannibal himself is nowhere to be found. She will head for the kitchen. They keep all the medicine in a cabinet above the stove. 

“There’s no telling when one might need a sedative during a particularly taxing dinner party. Best to have them close.” Hannibal’s told her on multiple occasions.

The grandfather clock in the entryway tells her its a little past three in the morning. As she nears the kitchen she can hear a quiet shuffling. She’d been still holding out hope of avoiding an early morning confrontation. No such luck. Hannibal is standing in front of an open fridge, his back toward her as he rummages through the vegetable drawer plate in hand. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of oversized nautical patterned boxers. She doesn’t want to startle him. Bedelia clears her throat as primly as possible and he wheels around, face flushed as if she’s caught him in the middle of something much more scandalous than fixing a midnight snack. He’s holding a head of lettuce under one arm.

“Good evening Bedelia.” Hannibal covers whatever’s on his plate with his free hand. “I’m terribly sorry to have woken you.” He looks exhausted, there’s bags under his eyes she’s never seen before.

“It’s three in the morning Hannibal.” She frowns. 

“Oh. Is it?” He sounds a little sheepish which is an unusual change of pace for someone who takes joy in unabashedly infusing his private dinners with cannibalism puns. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” 

“I’m quite sure I will regret asking this but what on earth are you doing up?” Bedelia asks as she reaches for the handle to the medicine cabinet. 

“Nothing especially unusual. I’m only making a sandwich.” Hannibal sighs, uncovering his plate. There is indeed the beginnings of a sandwich taking shape, including two slices of wonder bread [which Bedelia was unaware they even owned] a couple slices of meat and a tomato. He sets the plate on the counter and selects a cutting board and knife from his block then goes to work on chopping his lettuce. 

Since they arrived in Italy Hannibal has continued to serve up a wide array of gourmet dishes. His high class tastes were not, as it turned out an invention to fit with his person suit, but something through which the real Hannibal finds genuine enjoyment. She does not think she’s ever seen him eating anything that didn’t require the use of at least fifteen different spices and an hour and a half prep time. Even his leftovers are stored in neatly labeled tins with ingredient lists and expiry dates. Hannibal within a ten foot radius of a common bologna sandwich is setting off warning signals. 

“You eat _sandwiches_?” Bedelia raises an eyebrow. 

“No.” Hannibal snaps, more than a touch defensively. “Not typically. You know that.” 

“Where are your clothes?” She pops open the cap on the pill bottle dry swallowing a dosage in a practiced motion. In addition to the rather odd plastic onesie he uses for murders Hannibal is in possession of several equally ridiculous pinstriped pajama sets. Bedelia has been forced to get used to seeing as their evenings draw to a close.

“It got hot. I couldn’t sleep. I needed a distraction but I couldn’t very well prepare something elaborate without waking you.” Hannibal rationalizes looking down at his sandwich as he begins carefully arranging the lettuce in symmetrical slices on each piece of bread. 

“How very courteous of you.” She says dryly.

“Doesn’t seem like I succeeded. Would you like some?” He cuts the bread triangularly and holds one half out to her.

”Is it _traditional_ bologna?” 

“In a sense. I prepared it myself.” He smiles meaningfully. 

Lydia Fell leftovers then Bedelia smirks. “I’ll pass.” 

“Are you having a hard time sleeping?” He wonders leaning against the counter and taking his first small bite.

“I had too much to drink after dinner. Woke with a headache.” She explains.

“Ah. Your coping methods are rather destructive.” 

Bedelia rolls her eyes. “And yours aren’t?” 

He looks back at her quizzically. “What do you mean by that Bedelia?” 

“Hannibal _your_ coping mechanisms often require people to die.” She deadpans. 

“I’m not..this isn’t...” He sputters. “What makes you think this is a coping mechanism?”

“You’re eating a people bologna sandwich at three am in your boxers. _Something_ is obviously going on. What happened?” 

“I was perusing tattlecrime.” Hannibal admits. 

“As you often do.” Bedelia mumbles. 

“As I often do.” Hannibal agrees. “Except today Miss Lounds has posted something new. A rather unethical photo of dear Will’s temporary colostomy bag.” 

“Will Graham is alive?” Bedelia curses inwardly. The one thing she has not had to endure since their dash to Europe are the endless roundabout discussions on Will, left behind to bleed to death in Hannibal’s Baltimore home. Hannibal had been completely besotted by him. Will had, of course, been ceasingly oblivious. It had been almost as disturbing as learning of Hannibal’s life beyond the veil, watching them circle each other and having to listen to Hannibal whine about it.

”Yes. And when he wakes I suspect he will regret not actually murdering Miss Lounds when he had the chance.” 

“How does learning of this make you feel?” Bedelia asks effortlessly slipping into her psychiatrist speak. 

“Like I should fly back to the states right away. I want to off Miss Lounds purely for the indignity of it.” Hannibal blurts. 

“Well that’s certainly antethical. considering you tried to kill Will Graham barely a month ago. You _were_ trying to kill him right? Why should you care if Freddy Lounds posts embarrassing hospital photos!” She’s frustrated, letting a bit of her personal feelings seep through.

”I was trying to do many things that night.” Hannibal takes another large bite of his sandwich chewing ungentlemanly. “Besides Bedelia. No one deserves to be photographed in that manner. Her black boxes are barely a comfort.” 

“Are we not beyond your cryptic messaging?” Bedelia groans crossing to the fridge. It seems she’ll need another drink after all. 

“He betrayed me. Broke my heart!” Hannibal huffs. “My emotions are _complicated_!”

“That’s the understatement of the fucking century.” She mutters under her breath as she pulls a bottle of chilled rosé from the fridge. 

“I couldn’t let him go unpunished.” Hannibal continues.

”But you wanted to?” Bedelia asks letting the calming taste of the wine wash over her. 

“I wanted to take him to Abigail. He would have been so pleased! I wanted to show him the world, buy him a new wardrobe befitting of his beauty! We could have raised her together. A proper family. That is what I _wanted_ Bedelia. But I am here. Alone in a kitchen eating a...how did you put it?” He thinks for a moment “A people sandwich.” Hannibal picks up his plate and walks to the dining room slumping down into an empty chair and resting his head on the table. 

“It’s nice to know I am valued.” Bedelia sips her wine voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I’m a mess Bedelia!” He presses on, either not having heard her jab or deciding to ignore it. “He’ll hate me now! My behavior was inexcusable. There’s no way I can fix this!” 

Bedelia takes a deep breath and muses on how the hell her life has gotten to this point. She had been good once. Hadn’t she? She wanted to help people! She fought her way through medical school and established her own office! What cruel twist of fate had led her here? The phychiatrist and proxy wife to a serial killer. A serial killer who looks to be currently on the verge of a legitimate mental breakdown over relationships issues.

She has no idea what to say. She can’t leave him alone in this state on a good conscience. There’s no telling how he could endanger them. Or how he could endanger others. Bedelia knows she has to do _something_. She pinches the bridge of her nose and resolves to give it her best shot. When really all she wants is crawl back to her wonderfully expensive bed [another member of the very small list of positives Hannibal has provided her with] but she sits down next to Hannibal instead, putting an uncertain hand on his shoulder and patting awkwardly. 

“Alright well. Obviously stabbing the man you’re in love with isn’t the best course of action. In _any_ situation.” She begins.

“I’m aware of that.” He sighs. “I doubt i’ll choose to do so again.”

“I would advise you didn’t. What you and Will Graham have is umm. It’s not normal Hannibal. It is completely inexpressible if I’m being honest. I don’t understand it. It’s not likely that either of you completely understand it. I don’t think a stab wound could destroy something like that.” 

“You really think so?” Hannibal looks up at her hopefully. 

“I do?” She answers cautiously

“I suppose that does make me feel a bit better.” He pauses for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want some of this sandwich? It’s suprisingly tasty.”

She shakes her head. “It’s all yours.” He shrugs and returns to eating. She can almost see the cogs in his head spinning. 

“Here’s an idea! What if I offered to let him stab me back?.” 

Bedelia has half a mind to ask if she can stab him herself. 

“Hannibal _no_. That’s...You should definitely considering apologizing in a way that doesn’t require knives.” She sighs. 

“It will have to be a grand gesture.” Hannibal counters. “I’m quite good at making grand gestures with knives. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“We can.....brainstorm.” She offers desperately. “When we both have more sleep. I can help you find something suitable.” 

“Thank you Bedelia. Truly. But I think this is a matter I should handle privately.” He looks better than he did when she had first come upon him. But he is still a far cry from his collected self.

“That’s fair.” She nods 

His plate is empty save for the sandwich crusts. He stands and shuffles back to the kitchen depositing it into the sink later. Bedelia does the same with her glass. The pair walk together through the dimly lit halls of the palazzo and back to the hallway that contains their respective rooms. They pause outside of Hannibal’s. He reaches for her hand and kisses it politely. 

“My apologies again Bedelia, for waking you. Never fear. We will be back to our regularly scheduled programming of people carbonara by morning.” He grins wryly at her as he disappears inside, no doubt to lay awake pining for Will Graham until morning.

Bedelia wraps herself in her lovely satin bed sheets and waits for sleep to arrive. She has a suspicion she will be needing a lot more of it from here on out.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is to be honest. 
> 
> Feedback is still much appreciated!! :)))


End file.
